


Possibly, Maybe

by castiowl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Apartment AU, Artist Steve Rogers, Awkwardness, Badly Timed Fire Alarms, Based on a Tumblr Post, Cats, Comic Book Artist Steve Rogers, Drunk Steve Rogers, Editor Bucky Barnes, Flirting, Fluff, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Hipster Steve Rogers, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Neighbors, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sleepwalking, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiowl/pseuds/castiowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is apartment-sitting for Natasha when he meets Steve. They spend the next four weeks embarrassing themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter (except the last) is based off an AU prompt via Tumblr.
> 
> Title is from Landon Pigg's "Falling In Love In a Coffee Shop".
> 
> ENJOOOOY!

Bucky never should have agreed to housesit for Natasha, but let it never be said he’s an inconsiderate asshole. Her apartment is quaint – there’s really no other word for it – and on the top floor, which is doing wonders for Bucky’s cardio. He may not have to go to the gym anymore if he forgets something in his car one more time. The place was clearly built before the invention of elevators and with a little bit of online research Bucky discovers that yeah, of course this place used to be a creepy children’s hospital. He’s probably sleeping in a dead child’s bed while the bodies buried in the walls watch him toss and turn.

Natasha owes him. Big time. 

Except the note on the fridge when he first enters the apartment reads: “We’re even.” Okay, that’s fair. She saved his life, even if he refuses to admit it. 

Ubi, Natasha’s feral housecat, pads into the room as soon as Bucky enters the apartment, gives him and his shoulder bag a disdainful once-over before going back to sacrificing mice to the almighty cat god or whatever the hell that cat gets up to when she’s not glaring at Bucky.

Underneath the first note on the fridge is another with feeding directions for Ubi, as well as an ominous message telling Bucky “welcome home!” with a smiley face with oddly slanted eyes, making it look more angry than happy.

Appropriate.

This will be Bucky’s second night in this godforsaken place, which means only… an entire month left. He wonders if Natasha would know if he slept at his own place and just popped in once and awhile to make sure Ubi hadn’t started the great cat revolution. 

She’d know. Nat knows everything. She probably has cameras set up. She’s probably watching Bucky right now. 

He gives an idle wave to the ceiling fan in the living room just in case.

He tosses his bag onto the couch and almost sits except suddenly Ubi is there and she looks murderous. Or hungry. It’s easy to confuse the two.

Bucky feeds her and decides it’s for the best because he should really head to bed. He has an early morning at the publishing house he works at and it’s nearly midnight. He loosens his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt when he hears the muted thud outside his door.

He looks at Ubi who is dutifully ignoring him or anything for the sake of kibble. He frowns at the door and weighs the possibility of poltergeists versus drunk neighbors. He goes to the door and peers through the peephole. There’s nothing. Point for poltergeist.

He unlatches the chain and undoes the bolt lock to crack the door open. He peeks out and sees nothing at first. Then he looks down to find–

“Uh. Buddy, you okay?” Bucky asks the prostrate guy lying on his back in the hallway. He’s a shrimpy dude wearing tight jeans and a tighter shirt. Bucky’s first guess is college student, but then the guy’s head falls to the side and he moves the hand that’s obscuring his face. He may dress like a millennial, but this guy is clearly more Bucky’s age.

“Shit,” the stranger says. He chuckles at something Bucky clearly isn’t drunk enough to get. The laughing gets louder until he’s bound to wake the whole floor. Bucky rolls his eyes before stepping forward.

“Gimme your hand,” Bucky says and holds out his own. The stranger takes one look at it and falls into another peal of laughter. Bucky reaches out and grabs his hand anyway, pulling until he’s sitting up.

“Do you live here?” Bucky asks, getting down on one knee.

The man giggles. He puts his hand on Bucky’s bicep and barely meets his eyes as he asks, “Are you proposing to me?”

Bucky frowns. “No, I’m– Would you just–? Where’s your wallet?”

That, at least, gets through his drunken stupor and he digs out a leather billfold from his back pocket. He pushes it into Bucky’s hand with a giddy smile. “Second pocket, handsome.”

There’s a condom in the second pocket of the wallet and Bucky sighs. “Dream on,” he mutters while he searches for an ID. Finally, he finds it and pulls it out. “Steven Rogers. Is that you?”

The man makes a face. “Steven, Steven. No. No, just Steve. Steve is fine. Only Ma calls me Steven.” The giddiness has finally subsided into something more akin to confusion and illness. If he vomits on the hallway carpet outside Nat’s door, Bucky’ll never hear the end of it, despite the fact that this is _not his fault_.

“And you live… in Brooklyn? Shit. What the hell are you doing here?”

Steve sways slightly and Bucky’s been drunk enough before to know what comes next. He eyes his open door and sighs. Natasha will probably kill him, but it’s this or send this poor kid to his death on the streets of New York. Bucky’s not sure his fragile morality could take that.

“C’mon,” Bucky says, shoving the wallet back into Steve’s hand. He tugs on Steve’s arm until he gets into something resembling a standing position. He leads him into the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a kick. 

Ubi is nowhere to be found, which is probably for the best considering how happy she’d been with just one new guest. Bucky can’t imagine how two will go down. He leads Steve to the bathroom off the living room.

“Here,” Bucky says, sitting him on the edge of the tub. “I’m gonna get blankets for the couch. Just stay.” Bucky puts out a hand. “And if you get sick…” He points to the toilet. 

Steve doesn’t reply, which is good enough for Bucky. Once he wrangles a pillow and a comforter from Natasha’s closet and makes up a bed on the couch, he heads back into the bathroom. Steve’s fallen asleep on the floor of the bathroom.

Bucky nudges him with his foot. “Hey,” he says. “Steve, get up.”

Nothing.

Bucky crouches down and grabs Steve’s chin. “Steve? C’mon, man. Wake up.”

Steve’s face pinches and his hand flies out to push Bucky away. Bucky can’t help but smile; this drunk is very familiar. Bucky almost always gets belligerently drunk. Which is why Natasha refuses to drink with him anymore.

“C’mon,” Bucky says and half-carries, half-walks Steve over to the couch. Steve’s asleep almost as soon as he crash-lands on the sofa, making a hum of contentment before curling into the fetal position. Bucky huffs a laugh and wonders if this shit ever happens to Natasha or if the universe saw Bucky hadn’t had a good laugh in awhile and sent a drunk twink over.

Steve is gone by the time Bucky’s up for work at six in the morning and he has to admit, he’s a little bit sad about it.

Luckily, it’s not the last time Bucky ever sees Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I found you passed out in front of my door so I just dragged you into my home and put you on the couch please don’t scream." via [tumblr](castiowl.tumblr.com/post/114448768045/apartment-aus-to-consider).


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Bucky hits the landing of Natasha’s floor after another long day of work, looks up, and sees Steve staring through an open apartment door.

 _Bucky’s_ open apartment door.

Bucky stops short and Steve’s head whips around as he spots Bucky. His eyes are wide, blonde hair a mess, and he’s wearing glasses. He’s also wearing far more casual attire – jeans that actually fit and a dark t-shirt with some faded band name on it. 

“Uh,” Bucky says.

“Okay, I know what this looks like,” Steve says, holding out his hands. He’s growing redder by the second and Bucky wishes he were more panicked about _someone breaking into Natasha’s apartment on Bucky’s watch_ , but the way Steve looks so downright terrified has Bucky wanting to comfort the guy. Maybe that’s his ploy. Make the victim feel bad for _not_ letting him steal your valuables.

“What’s it look like?” Bucky asks, finally convincing his legs to move again. 

“Like I’m breaking in? Oh god, okay, I was just so tired and was all turned around and I went up an extra flight and our keys– My key worked on your door. I swear, okay? Look.” Steve closes the door, turns the handle to show it’s locked, sticks his key in the lock, and opens the door.

“Oh,” Bucky says, because he’s telling the truth, assuming he hasn’t made a copy of Natasha’s key or something.

“Yeah. Um, sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“And thanks. For the other night. I think that was you. Tell me that was you?”

“That was me.”

“Okay, good. Shit. I’m… really sorry. But I let your cat out. It ran that way.” Steve points behind Bucky.

Bucky’s blood pressure spikes and he must look terrified because Steve’s face suddenly mirrors Bucky’s. 

“That’s bad. Is that bad? I thought cats come back. It’ll come back, right?” Steve asks desperately. “Oh fuck, I am _so sorry_.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says weakly. He steps past Steve into the apartment so he can toss his bag in before closing the door and facing his unwitting demise. Ubi will never come back and Natasha will nail Bucky to the wall with her stilettos. 

“I’ll help look,” Steve says quickly. “It couldn’t have gotten far. I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the way back.”

“She has a way of avoiding me,” Bucky replies and heads down the stairs, taking two at a time. He leaves Steve on the second landing to head down to the third. 

It’s only five minutes later when Bucky hears Steve call out “Got you!”

Bucky races up the stairs and comes to a halt when he sees Steve cradling Ubi like a baby, her vicious little paws bouncing against her wicked stomach with each of Steve’s steps. He smiles at Bucky and holds her out for him to take, but then her claws are out and she’s holding onto Steve for dear life.

“Yeah, it’s probably best if you carry her,” Bucky says.

“Holy shit,” Steve hisses as he digs a claw out of his shirt. “What’d you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. Her owner brainwashed her into hating me.”

“Her owner? You’re not her owner?”

“No, I’m housesitting for a friend.”

“Oh.”

They make it back to the apartment and Steve lets Ubi down once Bucky opens the door. When Steve stands up, Bucky finds they’re close, both packed into the doorway. He swallows as Steve looks up at him and Bucky realizes how blue his eyes are. 

Steve smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Again. I… can’t apologize enough for being such a massive fuck-up these past couple weeks. I swear I’m not usually like this.” He looks away and runs a hand through his hair. He has nice hair. “And I’ll change the lock on my door. You should, too. Just in case, y’know, someone with bad intentions tries what I did.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “Wait, so you live here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, I checked your ID when you were… drunk. Says you lived in Brooklyn. That’s why I put you up.”

“Oh. Yeah, I moved a few months ago, but never got around to getting a new license.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, I’m gonna disappear now,” Steve says, backing up. “Hopefully next time you see me I’ll be a really hot, successful lawyer with a wife and two and a half kids because I think that’s the only way I’m gonna convince you I’m normal at this point.”

Bucky snorts a laugh and watches as Steve disappears down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My apartment key apparently also works on your apartment door? (Also I accidentally let your cat out.)" AU via [Tumblr](castiowl.tumblr.com/post/114448768045/apartment-aus-to-consider).


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky doesn’t sleepwalk.

Correction: Bucky doesn’t sleepwalk unless he’s sleeping in a haunted apartment building and having nightmares concerning hospitalized children with soulless eyes and grabby hands.

The first time it happened, he woke up on the floor of the kitchen. The second time it happened, he wound up in the hallway outside his door. The third time he’d made it to the second landing. The fourth time ended with his forehead against some stranger’s door, probably scaring the everliving daylights out of them. 

He texts Natasha about it, but all she does is tell him it’s stress from his job which, yeah, it’s fucking stressful being an editor with a half a dozen scripts to go through by the end of the quarter, but it’s nothing new. He _enjoys_ his work. No, he tells her, it’s the fucking ghost children living in her fucking walls.

She sends him 16 ghost emojis in reply.

Maybe all he had to do was tell someone about it, because after that fourth time, it doesn’t happen again. He wakes up in his bed every morning and everything is as it should be.

It’s the third weekend and Bucky is counting down the days when he can be back home without worrying about homicidal cats and haunted apartments when there’s a knock at the door. He’s surprised to see Steve through the peephole. He opens the door.

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s already blushing, which must be some kind of record.

“Hi,” Bucky says.

“Uh, you left this last night.” Steve holds out a t-shirt and–

_What the everloving fuck._

“What–?” Bucky starts, then stops, not even knowing where to begin. 

Steve gives him a strange look. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember how you came into my apartment, undressed me, and took my shirt?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “More like how you came to my door last night, took off your own shirt without any assistance from me, and used the shirt to, in your words, _strangle the damn kid before it eats us_.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky says.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my _god_.”

“Okay, just take the shirt, man.”

Bucky takes the shirt. “Oh my god I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we’re even.”

Bucky runs a hand down his face. “Fucking ghost children,” he mutters.

“Yeah, you said something like that the first time you–”

“The _first time_?!” Bucky cuts in.

Steve tries to hide a smile and fails. “You’ve been a pretty frequent visitor this past week. Well, you started at Mr. Ross’s place, which was not a good idea because he’s a total asshole. So I sort of stepped in and you’ve been coming down ever since. You really don’t remember, huh?”

“What? No! I was _sleepwalking_.”

“Ooooh.”

“What do you mean ‘oh’? What the hell did you think I was doing?!”

Steve shrugs. “Thought you were, like, really high or something. I don’t know. Never been around anyone who sleepwalked before.”

“I wasn’t high. Jesus.” Bucky rubs his eyes. He realizes something. “I end up in my bed every morning though. I thought I was done sleepwalking. Do you…?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “I just lead you up here. You’re usually pretty tired out from all the… ghost-child-killing that you’re pretty easy to convince to go back home–”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky cuts in, waving his hand. “That’s enough. I don’t… need to hear about how I embarrassed myself. Really. I get the picture.”

Steve smiles wide. “Feels awesome, doesn’t it?”

Bucky huffs. “Yeah, well, thanks, I guess.”

“Sure, no problem.” Steve steps back and turns away, then abruptly turns back. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Bucky.”

Steve nods. “See you tonight, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You sleepwalk a lot and sometimes you knock on my door so I have to lead you back to your apartment." via [Tumblr](castiowl.tumblr.com/post/114448768045/apartment-aus-to-consider).


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky does not see Steve that night nor any other night for a week in any state of undress or mental incapacity. He does, however, buy three padlocks for the door. That seems to do the trick. Or if it doesn’t, his sleepwalking self is far more proficient than he gives him credit for.

Bucky goes to sleep blessedly early on Thursday night, having secured the padlocks and hidden their respective keys around the apartment. It’s nearly four in the morning when the alarm sounds: a blaring, high-pitched screeching that shocks Bucky into waking. He heaves himself out of bed and straight for the apartment door. He stares blankly at the various padlocks before scrambling around the apartment in search of keys to the tune of the fire alarm while Ubi watches reproachfully from her perch on the back of the sofa.

Ubi.

If Bucky lets Ubi die in a fire, Natasha will literally kill him. After unlocking the padlocks on the door, he pulls on a hoodie and walks as calmly as he can toward the cat. She bristles immediately, back arching and ears back.

“Jesus Christ, cat, we’re gonna burn to death if you don’t fucking just– COME HERE!” He grabs her around the middle and in one swift motion shoves her under his sweater. Her claw dig into his skin, but it’ll have to do.

Bucky’s taken so long getting out, it’s a wonder the place hasn’t collapsed. In truth, it’s probably some asshole who burnt his toast, but better safe than sorry. Bucky will make a point of telling Natasha how selfless he’d been saving the damn urchin currently attempting to turn his stomach into ribbons. 

Bucky sees no one else on his awkward flight downstairs. When he finally makes it outside, he stops short. In front of the building, about ten feet from where Bucky stands in splendid disarray – no shoes, PJ pants, an oddly wiggly sweatshirt, and epic bedhead – is every tenant of the apartment building. They’re in the middle of the street, gathered in a circle in various lawn chairs and plastic fold-up chairs and Bucky even spots a beanbag. There’s an electric firepit glowing in the middle of this odd group, appropriate because it can’t be more than 30 degrees out.

A few heads turn as Bucky steps forward, but no one says anything and the various muted conversations continue. 

Bucky hesitates at first, wondering if he should risk the possible fire in favor of what is clearly a softcore community cult. But then someone is waving at him and he continues on. He steps past a few people who he recognizes from mailbox visits until he reaches Steve. He’s seated in a lawn chair – one of the fancy ones with plastic cupholders built into the arms – and he smiles as Bucky reaches him. He motions to an empty, identical chair next to him.

Bucky sits awkwardly and Steve apparently doesn’t miss the angry, low-throated growl that comes from Bucky’s midriff even over the muffled shrieks of the fire alarm.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asks. They’re a few rows back from the firepit, but the thing is strong and Bucky pushes his feet closer in the hopes of getting some feeling back.

“Oh shit,” Steve says, eyebrows rising into his hairline. “I totally forgot you’re not a real tenant. Everyone gets a memo the first day they move in and, well…” Steve laughs lightly. 

“What?” Bucky asks, frowning. Ubi has shifted to lay on his lap and seems decently comfortable there for the moment.

“Once a month we have to do these fire drills because the building is so old. They’re planned ahead of time so everyone knows when they gotta be out. It’s more like a mandatory tenant meeting.” Steve shrugs. “It’s kinda nice. Get to meet the neighbors.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Bucky asks, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t know a lot about Steve, but he’s willing to guess the guy isn’t beyond a mostly harmless prank like this.

“I forgot,” Steve replies easily.

“If you forgot, why’d you bring a chair for me?”

Steve laughs. “Honestly? I brought it for Mrs. Wilford, but I totally forgot she died. We only saw each other during these things and she was mostly senile.” Steve sighs. “I kinda miss her.”

“Sorry,” Bucky says and pushes on Ubi so she’ll stop pressing her bony elbows into his crotch which she is _absolutely_ doing on purpose.

“What’s, uh…?” Steve motions to Bucky’s lap.

Bucky nudges her again. “It’s Ubi. Since no one bothered to tell me this was a drill, I saved her from what was, in my mind, a raging fire of death.”

Steve laughs. “How brave.”

“I know you’re joking, but this cat is a fucking nightmare. You should see my stomach. I’m pretty sure she’s hit an organ by now.”

“Well, I’ve got a first aid kit in my apartment if you wanna stop by after this is over.”

Bucky feels his heart skip a beat. Is he reading into this way too hard? Probably. Is that going to stop him from acting like an idiot? Probably not.

“Maybe I will,” Bucky replies. He stares at Steve out of the corner of his eye, but the other man is focused on the fire ahead of them.

“And maybe you could keep your clothes on when you visit me this time,” Steve quips. He looks over at Bucky with a smirk.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Keep looking at me like that and–” He freezes when he realizes what he was about to say. _Rein it in, Barnes. Jesus._

“Are you flirting with me?” Steve asks. It’s so matter-of-fact Bucky feels himself getting defensive about it.

“What if I am?” he asks, sounding incredibly mature and not at all like a petulant child.

Steve smiles wide. “Haven’t been flirted with in awhile, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Bucky says weakly.

“It’s nice.”

“Oh,” Bucky repeats, surprised.

“You could–,” Steve starts, but then he’s cut off by a rising cacophony of voices as the crowd begins to rise, fold up their chairs, and shuffle back toward the building entrance. The fire alarm is off, Bucky realizes.

Steve stands and Bucky follows suit. They fold up their chairs and Steve holds out his hand to take the one Bucky used. Bucky hands it over. “Uh, thanks,” he says.

“Anytime,” Steve replies.

They follow the crowd back into the building and make it up to Steve’s floor without a word. Steve turns at the last minute with a raised hand. “Night, Bucky.”

“Night, Steve,” Bucky replies and the smile he receives in return permeates his dreams for the next three nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's two am, we're standing outside of our apartment building bc someone pulled the fire alarm, and you look cold and unprepared, do you want to share my blanket?" via [Tumblr](castiowl.tumblr.com/post/111728540220/spookythomassangster-yes-but-theres-also).


	5. Chapter 5

It’s the last night before Natasha comes home and Bucky couldn’t be happier about it. He can’t wait to be back in his own apartment in Brooklyn where the bed doesn’t smell faintly of perfume and there are no devil-spawn cats. Bucky’s just climbing into bed when he hears it.

Children laughing.

His blood runs cold and he feels the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He pauses at the edge of the bed and listens hard, but there’s only the sound of the city outside. Okay, so he imagined it? Doesn’t seem likely, but it has been a long day. It’s nearly three in the morning and Bucky momentarily considers trying to sleep with the lights on, but he needs a good night’s sleep.

He sighs and rubs his eyes, finally coaxing himself into bed with thoughts of his own bed that will welcome him home tomorrow, sans ghost children.

He drifts between sleep and awake for awhile and then it happens again: children laughing. Bucky strains to hear them and if he had to guess, he’d say they were across the hall, maybe in the apartment next door? Except Bucky’s talked to the old woman who lives there and she lives alone. Maybe she has grandchildren visiting, he thinks. Then what the hell are three kids doing up at three in the morning?

Well, obviously they’re plotting to sacrifice Bucky to their unholy devil father.

“Get a grip,” Bucky hisses out loud.

It happens a third time. The laughter is piercing and loud now, as if it’s gotten closer and Bucky nearly concusses himself rolling out of bed and hitting the bedside table. He yanks the comforter off the bed, snatches the pillow up, and heads out the apartment door.

Steve answers on the third knock, fully dressed and wide awake. It’s so off-putting, Bucky just stares for a moment not saying anything.

“Jesus, I thought you worked out a system for this. It’s been so long…,” Steve says. He sighs, pushes a hand lightly against Bucky’s chest so he can step out of the apartment. “C’mon, pal. Let’s go back upstairs.” Steve steps around Bucky. “Not that I’m complaining, exactly,” he continues. “You’re pretty cute, if you don’t mind me saying.” He turns back to Bucky and gives him a once-over. “You’ve got the whole wannabe-biker thing going on, but a heart of gold? Swoon-worthy, as my friend would say. Which is not something–”

“Steve, I’m not sleepwalking.”

Steve’s mouth snaps closed and he immediately turns bright red. “Oh,” he says, his voice higher than normal. “Yeah, right. No, I knew that.”

“Yeah, somehow I doubt that,” Bucky says with a grin.

“Oh my god,” Steve breathes and practically bolts back into his apartment. He turns back to Bucky, eyes firmly on the ground. “You didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not a word,” Bucky agrees solemnly.

There’s a long, strained pause wherein Steve bores a hole into the hardwood floor and Bucky tries to temper his inflated ego because _Steve thinks he’s cute_. 

“So…,” Steve says. “What do you want?”

Bucky adjusts the blanket and pillow in his arms and says, “Would you believe that there are ghost children living in my friend’s apartment?”

“Honestly? Yes. I never met her, but I always had the distinct impression that she might, in fact, be made up of ghost children.”

“I’m serious! I heard real fucking children _laughing_ in my fucking apartment, okay? _Laughing_. Evil, sinister laughing! Like, we’re-gonna-slit-your-throat-while-you-sleep laughter.” 

Steve laughs and takes his glasses off to rub them with his shirt. “So, you came here because you heard I’m Catholic and can hook you up with an exorcist, I assume?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Look, just for tonight. It’s my last night here anyway and I’ve got to leave for work in three hours anyway, so just… please? Can I stay here?”

Steve pushes his glasses back on and finally looks at Bucky. Then he nods and steps back. “Sure,” he agrees. 

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he says and follows Steve inside his apartment.

The layout is exactly the same as Nat’s apartment, but it’s amazing what two different personalities can do to a place. Where Natasha’s is minimalist and largely functional, Steve’s is homey and crowded. None of his furniture matches and there’s a strange sort of cluttered organization going on. There are more art supplies scattered around the place than most art stores might carry – tubes of paint, brushes, pencils, pens, charcoal, erasers, varying sizes of sketchbooks, easels, cups of murky water. But what stands out the most are the pieces of art around the main room. What must be hundreds of sketches litter every surface and while Steve busies himself clearing off the couch, Bucky gets a closer look at one stack on top of the table by the front door. It’s part of what looks like a rough sketch for a comic. In the bottom right corner there’s an illegible signature, but Bucky can make out an S and an R.

“Did you do all this?” Bucky asks.

Steve looks over at Bucky. “If you mean the sketches, yeah. I’m a comic artist. Ever heard of _The Winter Soldier_?”

“Sure. Who hasn’t?”

“I’m flattered,” Steve replies and Bucky looks at him, eyebrows raised.

“Wait, you’re saying you drew _The Winter Soldier_?”

“Issues 12 through 37, soon to be 38, yeah.”

“Holy shit.” Bucky takes another look around because this guy has to be pretty famous and he feels like he should appreciate seeing the inside of his home, even if Bucky’s never read the comic he’s famous for.

“Okay, couch is yours,” Steve says as he drops a sizeable pile of scrappy paper on a workdesk in the corner of the room. 

“Thanks,” Bucky says and drops his blanket and pillow there.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got a deadline coming up and I need to finish inking a few pages. If I do it in my room, I’ll fall asleep.”

Bucky waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Don’t stop on my account. I’m just happy to not get possessed tonight.”

Steve laughs. “Right. Well, I’ll keep the overhead lights off.”

Steve starts pushing things aside on the desk to make room, so Bucky settles down onto the couch.

“Oh, and if you want breakfast – I make a mean omelet,” Steve adds.

Bucky huffs. “I get up pretty early.”

“I stay up pretty late,” Steve counters.

Bucky laughs. “Well, if you’re offering, I’m not saying no.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

“Night, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I just moved into the apartment next door and I am 100% sure that it's haunted bc this building used to be a hospital and anyway I heard I noise coming from inside the walls can I please just crash here for the night?" via [Tumblr](castiowl.tumblr.com/post/111728540220/spookythomassangster-yes-but-theres-also).


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky wakes to the smell of something heavenly. It’s so disorienting that it takes him a full five minutes to remember what he’s doing on a couch in what has to be the lovechild of Jackson Pollock and Paula Deen’s house.

Different artist, different cook, different house. Steve is making breakfast. Bucky sits up and stretches, his spine popping audibly as he does.

“Morning,” Steve calls from the kitchen. Bucky turns around and sees Steve over the breakfast bar that divides the two rooms. 

“Morning,” Bucky replies and heads into the kitchen. “Jesus, that smells good,” he says as he eyes the matching omelets in the skillet on the stove.

“Would you believe it tastes better than it looks?” Steve asks.

Bucky actually whimpers and Steve laughs. “Go sit,” Steve says, pointing at the small kitchen table that’s been recently cleared off.

Bucky does as he’s told and soon he’s being served the most amazing-looking food on the planet. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Bucky admits around his first mouthful of pure eggy bliss.

“Damn ghost children,” Steve quips as he sits across from Bucky.

The two eat in relative silence, too engrossed in savoring every bite to do much else. Once Bucky clears his plate, he checks the time on his phone. “Shit, I should’ve left for work five minutes ago.” He leans back against the chair and sighs.

“Where do you work?” Steve asks, stabbing a bit of egg on his plate.

“HarperCollins.”

Steve frowns slightly. “You’re an author?”

Bucky huffs a laugh. “No way. Editor. I work with way too many authors to want to be one.”

Steve grins down at his plate. After a beat, he looks back up at Bucky. “Okay, be honest. Why’d you really come down last night?”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Why’d you think I came down?”

Steve shrugs.

“Honestly?” Bucky repeats. He glances at the ceiling and then says, “Honestly, I heard laughing children and got scared shitless and I thought, ‘Who here would make me feel less crazy?’”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be.”

“So, that’s the truth? You’re sticking with the ghost children?”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re implying,” Bucky says in faux-offense. He shakes his head. “But I’m being 100 percent honest. Laughing. Children.”

Steve smiles wide at him. “Okay, then I guess I should be honest, too.” Bucky frowns as Steve continues, “I believe you.”

“Well, you should because it happened.”

“I know,” Steve insists. “Everyone’s heard the laughing children.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to creep me out.”

Steve laughs and it does nothing to ease Bucky’s fears that Steve is actually the Ghost Children Leader and Bucky’s about to meet his gruesome end. “No, no,” Steve says, waving his hand in the air. “It’s not real children. It’s Mrs. Kent.”

“The old woman who lives in the apartment across from me sounds like three laughing children?”

“No, but her parrot does. She brings him everywhere, including to her grandkids’ house. It’s just the parrot, Bucky.”

Bucky’s mouth falls open, then he closes it and glares at Steve. “You knew. You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah, well, you looked so helpless. It’s rare when I get to save the damsel in distress.”

“I’m not a damsel,” Bucky replies indignantly. 

“You were pretty damsel-y,” Steve insists.

“Yeah, well, for a knight in shining armor, you’re not very…” Bucky gives Steve a furtive look. “Shit, you look like Prince Charming.”

Steve laughs. “I’m way too short for that.”

“Don’t have to be tall if you’re riding a noble steed,” Bucky points out.

“Fair point.” 

The two fall into silence. Bucky clears his throat. “Well, I should get going.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve says and he stands, picking up his plate and Bucky’s. He takes them to the sink while Bucky collects the blanket and pillow from the couch.

“Thanks again for letting me crash here,” Bucky says as he steps toward the door.

Steve steps out of the kitchen and smiles. “Anytime.”

There’s a moment when Bucky feels as though they’re balancing on the edge of something, and all it would take is a single word to tip them over, but then the moment’s gone and Bucky remembers he has somewhere to be. He opens the door and Steve comes forward to see him out.

“I’ll, uh, see you later,” Bucky says and turns away.

“You said that was your last night here?” Steve says, perhaps a little too loudly.

Bucky turns back. “Yeah. Yeah, Natasha gets in late tonight so I’m gonna pack my stuff up after work this evening.”

“Oh, well, maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, count on it.”

Steve smiles and it lights up his whole face. “Okay.” 

He turns to close the door, but Bucky says, “Steve?”

Steve turns back quickly. “Yeah?”

“If I told you I was gonna be a damsel real soon, would you rescue me?”

Steve looks like he really wants to roll his eyes, but instead he says, “What, more ghost children?”

Bucky shrugs and steps closer to Steve. “Nah. But I’ve definitely heard some weird things about that restaurant in Chinatown.”

“Mm.”

“Golden Unicorn.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“So, if I were to be there at, say, six tomorrow night, do you think you could be there too? Just in case.”

Steve nods slowly, looks at the ceiling as if considering, and then looks back at Bucky. “Yeah, I think I could do that.”

Bucky smiles wide. “Good.” He takes another step forward so he and Steve are closer than ever. He can smell him, like soap and peppers and paint. He leans forward, pausing briefly in case Steve wants an out, but he doesn’t move, so he kisses Steve on the mouth. It’s brief, but Steve eagerly returns the kiss and it sends a wave of giddy pleasure through Bucky’s whole body. When he pulls back, Steve has a dopey, half-smile on his face that makes Bucky want to kiss him again, but he’s really pressing his luck already with how late he is, so Bucky smiles instead. “I’ll see you then,” Bucky says.

Steve smiles back. “I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've written a whole fic before posting it. Gotta say, it's not as fun. I like getting feedback as I go much better, but whatever. HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED. And now you know what I've been doing instead of focusing on my main story lmao. I'm really not sorry.
> 
> Fun fact: Ubi's name is really Ubiytsa (убийца), which is "assassin" in Russian. Nice one, Nat.
> 
> Not-so-fun fact: Bucky got super low a few years ago and nearly made a very bad decision. Natasha helped him get better. Hence, she and Bucky are even.


End file.
